


Though the Light Fails

by thisbluespirit



Category: Dracula (TV 1968)
Genre: Blood, Community: allbingo, Community: genprompt_bingo, Community: hc_bingo, Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Injury, Major Character Undeath, Possession, Post-Canon, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: When the light fails, the end will come.  If Mina can't find a way to prevent it, that is...
Relationships: Jonathan Harker/Mina Harker, Mina Harker/John Seward, Mina Harker/Lucy Westenra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Allbingo, Genprompt Bingo Round 17, Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 10





	Though the Light Fails

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo May Amnesty Small Fandoms challenge for the prompts "deadline/time bomb," "possession/mind control," and "sensory deprivation." (Technically I think it might even count for "orphans" as well, but it is only technically.)
> 
> Also written for the genprompt_bingo square "Steel" and the allbingo May Flowers square "Dead Leaves - Sadness."

Mina strode towards the door that led into the asylum from Dr Seward’s quarters. She stopped beside it and put out a hand to touch the solid wood. She could feel something more intangible beyond it – a presence that called to her. She felt the air thrumming with some unseen expectation.

“I don’t think you should go down there, Mrs Harker,” said Mrs Hoskins, Dr Seward’s diminutive housekeeper, as she arrived beside Mina in a rustle of stiff fabric. “No one else has come back up yet.”

Mina removed her hand from the wood and straightened herself. She lifted her chin; a steel thread of determination running through her, no matter what she might sense. “Then someone must discover what has become of them.”

“Surely we ought to call in the authorities? I don’t like to do it, but it’s been nearly two hours.”

Mina shook her head. “Oh, no. They wouldn’t understand at all. The best person would be the Professor, but since he is still in York, I shall have to. At least I know what the danger is and what measures we may take against it.”

Mrs Hoskins looked unconvinced and Mina couldn’t blame her. Knowing what the danger was didn’t mean she could fight it. She hadn’t been able to the first time. A strand of her hair brushed against her cheek, though Mina felt no draught in the room. She shivered, but grasped the door handle firmly. She _would_ do this.

Mina took a lamp with her. The electric light had failed down here, even though it was still working in Dr Seward’s living quarters and in the upper floors of the asylum. The door shut behind her with a soft but certain thud. The die was cast. She moved forward, down the three steps to the lower section of corridor, and halted with a short cry as she almost fell over one of the missing attendants, lying on the floor of the corridor. She bent down and placed the lamp on the top of the steps behind her, and put a hand to his cheek. He was warm and, she saw, breathing. The tightness in her chest eased. He was alive, at least.

She drew herself up. The man needed help, but she must first find Jonathan and Dr Seward. She could not ask anyone else to come in here for any reason until she knew it was safe. She reached back to pick up the lamp, but the flame guttered in an unseen wind and winked out. Mina put her hand out in front of her face, but could not see it. The darkness was complete. 

The lamp was no use now, so she left it where it was, and stepped forward, frowning in concentration as she worked out her position. She had walked to Jonathan’s cell so many times she could surely remember the way without being able to see. She made her way slowly along the flat, lower section of the corridor, hand out in front of her, wary of falling over the steps up that she knew could not be far away.

She tripped over them even so, and had to stop and steady herself before she half-crawled up them. Rising to her feet, she walked on, searching for the metal spiral staircase that would indicate she was close to Jonathan’s cell. The trouble would be located there.

She felt warm air shifting around her, caressing her cheeks, and the dust stirring around her skirt. The hairs rose on the back of her neck. Mina swallowed, her throat dry. She felt again that sense of a distinct presence close by. She felt its pull on her come and go in waves, and stepped forward despite her wish to resist.

It was the presence of the Count. She recognised it and knew it could be nothing else, even though he had been destroyed. What she sensed now was all that was left of him, residing in his ring – and no doubt also in Jonathan. It was in her, too. She shivered, but she could not deny it when she felt the answering call in her blood; when her heartbeat quickened and the heat rose to her face at its ghostly touch.

Mina closed her eyes, though it made little difference in the dark. She didn’t want this. She _had_ taken the ring the morning the Professor had killed the Count, it was true, but she had won the battle with herself afterwards. She had handed it over to the Professor to keep safe. How could it be here when he was not?

“Jonathan?” she called out, her voice sounding flat in the corridor with its solid walls, soundproofed cells, and reinforced doors. “Dr Seward? John?”

She heard no reply. She took an uncertain step forward, and her hand hit the metal frame of the staircase. Mina ran her fingers over it as she passed, using it to regain her bearings. She crossed to the wall, making her way along it until she came to the heavy iron door to Jonathan’s cell.

It was closed but unlocked, and she opened it easily, blinking in the sudden, pale light. It was so dark in the corridor that she had forgotten it was still daylight, the early evening not yet having faded into night. The light was pink-tinged and growing fainter, though. It would not be long until it first shifted to grey and then deserted her.

Mina could not see either of the men from the doorway, but when she tried to enter, she discovered the whereabouts of the other asylum attendant, the toe of her boot hitting against a soft, solid mass lying at her feet.

She should have stopped to examine him, but now, all but inside, she could see Dr Seward. He was sitting on the low, wooden bed, slumped sideways against the wall behind it, the arm of his shirt sleeve soaked through with blood. There were red fingerprints on his cheek and neck. He had his other hand pressed against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding, but he was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. He wouldn’t last long like that; his hold would slacken and the blood would flow once more.

“John!” she said, leaping over the prone body, only for her path to be blocked by Jonathan, unexpectedly darting in front of her. 

“Mina! I knew you’d come. I knew you couldn’t keep away.” Jonathan caught hold of her hands, pulling her in. 

She felt something cold and hard against her fingers and knew it was the ring. She meant to pull away, to attend to John, but she let Jonathan draw her closer, feeling the thudding of her heart growing erratic. Flickers of fire awakened in her veins – and, oh, she remembered how that felt once before. She recalled Lucy’s touch, and the thrill it brought. A dark gleam flashed in her eyes as she met Jonathan’s. He tugged her closer still, roughly, and eagerly kissed her lips, her face, her neck. Mina closed her eyes, leaning her head against Jonathan’s cheek as he stilled and pressed her so close it hurt. She remembered the excitement and the overriding hunger. It would be so easy to give into it again.

Last time, though, her heightened senses had allowed her to hear the blood coursing around Jonathan’s body, and now she could not. The shock of what that must mean brought her back to herself. She was human still, and she would remain so. Jonathan was _not_. She pulled free of Jonathan, stumbling backwards over broken furniture towards the bed and Dr Seward.

“I’m whole at last,” said Jonathan and smiled too widely, showing teeth that were beginning to shape into points.

Mina had a dozen questions she needed to ask. How could that have happened? How had Jonathan got hold of the ring? There was no time yet – first, she must attend to Dr Seward. She reached his side and he lifted his head.

“Mrs Harker – Mina,” Seward said with an effort. “Please – go now –”

She shook her head. “No. Not without you.” She lowered her gaze to his arm, seeing that the wound he was trying to staunch had not been made by a bite. A small, crimson-stained knife lay on the floor beside the bed, amongst the remains of the chair and small table. Mina leant over and picked it up, along with a fragment of chair leg. She put that to one side and wiped the knife on the blanket, then used it to slice through her petticoats for a bandage.

Jonathan laughed at her efforts from the other side of the room, the last, fading shaft of sunlight hovering in the air between them.

Mina frowned and focused on tying the bandage in place. Then, as she finished, she heard John softly exhale and put out a hand to stop him slumping sideways off the narrow bed. Her fingers caught in his hair as he jerked back to wakefulness. She steadied him against the wall, trying to ignore the way it felt as if the darkness was a physical presence behind her, reaching out for her. She found herself looking too attentively at the bloody finger marks on his face – Jonathan’s fingerprints; John’s blood. She clenched her hand into a first with the effort not to touch.

“Why bother?” said Jonathan. “You’ll join me, Mina. You know you will.”

She turned her head, sitting on the bed close beside John. She gripped his sleeve to keep him upright.

“When the light goes,” said Jonathan, “then I’ll have you.”

Mina lowered her head. She could feel the presence of the Count and knew she could not trust herself. The coppery smell of blood filled her nostrils. Her teeth ached. The light was fading fast. How could she resist the Count’s will, even at second hand? She had not been able to before. She wore a cross around her neck, but she could feel the temptation even now to break the chain and let it fall. That would not be enough, either. Not for her.

She could not rely on her own strength, but she need not. She had other weapons to use. She took a deep breath, and set her mouth in a determined line. Even failure could be made to serve, if that was all she had.

“John,” she said, inclining away from Jonathan, as he laughed at them and pulled grotesque faces. She put her hand to John’s arm. “John, put your arm around me.”

Jonathan edged a step nearer to them, though he stopped before he reached the window, careful to avoid the last ray of light. “He’s no use to you, Mina!”

“Mrs Harker,” said John, the shock of her suggestion rousing him. “I hardly think –”

Mina choked back laughter that might easily become hysteria. She shook her head, and then reached for his arm, tugging it into position around her. She put her hand over his. “I need you to hold onto me. Please, John. You must help me.”

John wouldn’t ever refuse a request like that. She felt his good arm tighten around her waist. “He’s right, though,” he said. “Not sure – how much use – I’ll be.”

Mina settled herself more comfortably in place, her free hand closing around the object beside her on the bed. From that position, she looked back across at Jonathan with at least more appearance of complacency.

“How did you get the ring from the Professor?” she asked.

Jonathan pressed himself close against the opposite wall. “The old fool left it here in the safe for while he went on his trip. I’m not a prisoner now, am I? I came willingly. I’m only in this cell in case I need to be kept secure. I _asked_ for it to be so. I have the freedom of the place. And then I heard this calling to me – and I answered.” His hand closed around the ring more tightly. “It was an easy matter to take the key.” He nodded at John. “He didn’t even notice it was gone. And now the power is mine!” 

“I’m sorry,” said John faintly from behind Mina. She felt the rise and fall of his chest as he spoke, his breathing laboured.

“It’s not your fault.” She rested her hand on his again.

The light edged further out of the room, melting into a murky twilight.

“I knew,” said Jonathan, straightening but not yet moving forward. “I knew if I could have the blood I craved, all would be mine. Blood is the life. I begged them for a puppy, just a small one. They wouldn’t give it to me. _He_ wouldn’t.” He pointed at John. “I took the ring; I took his blood and now –”

Mina gasped as Jonathan drew back his lips into a misshapen snarl, showing his fangs again. Her own ached in answer and she put her hand up to her mouth as if to deny it, but John’s blood was on her fingers and she had to drop it back down again before she gave into the temptation to taste it.

“Life everlasting will be mine,” said Jonathan. The shadows seemed to flow around him like a cloak for a moment, as the shades of grey shifted and darkened. “Mine! No one can take it away this time.” He stretched out his hand. “Join me, Mina. Feed on him, and we’ll both be free. You have no one here now. This way we can be together forever.”

Mina blinked away hot tears. She’d lost Lucy, her dearest and only friend, and it seemed she was now rapidly losing Jonathan, her one other love. She’d wanted to die at that thought before. She felt her throat constrict. Why live in such pain, so alone, when she could so easily set herself free? She’d be with Jonathan at least, if not dear Lucy. Her gaze strayed to the blood seeping through John’s bandages and she felt dizzy with the urge to drink. She traced the line of the vein under his skin along his arm with her stained fingers.

“Mrs Harker,” said John, clearing his throat. “Are you all right?”

She let one or two of the tears fall. She observed with a strange detachment the feel of the tracks of their path down her cheeks; the way they dropped onto her black, mourning dress. “No. Oh, no. Not at all.” She closed her eyes. She would lose if she fought, so she didn’t fight. She had almost nothing left in her, only this one steely core of an idea. She trusted it would be enough.

“Mrs Harker – Mina,” said John again, trying carefully to shift his position. “I thought you had some plan.”

She leant her head against his shoulder briefly and squeezed his hand, but she could not explain. Jonathan might sense something and, besides, to tell John that all they needed was for the light to finally fail, for her to fail, would not reassure him. She held onto one thing only, curling her fingers tightly around it, steadying her position, close beside John, against the wall.

Her senses were already growing worryingly acute. She felt the last dregs of grey slid into navy night before she saw that it was so. It was still not as utterly dark as it had been out into the corridor, but it was enough. She could make out Jonathan’s shadowy form close to the window and the way he drew back, preparing to spring at her.

She could see it happening: she would turn in John’s arms, her teeth again becoming fangs. Her fingers, already coloured with his blood, unfastening his stiff collar. She’d feel him surrender to her touch. He had no more fight left in him, either, not after Lucy, after the shock of the supernatural breaking into his rational life. And as John fell away, she would look up and see Jonathan smiling at her, a matching darkness in their eyes. The whole world would be theirs.

He’d join her, unwrapping the bandages she’d made, and drinking again from John. She could hear the way he’d laugh. Mina felt a painful stab of longing pass through her as the vision faded and all that was left was Jonathan staring at her through the dimness as if he had seen it too.

Because, she thought, it wasn’t her dream, and it wasn’t his. It was the Count’s, overwriting all that they were. Mina and Jonathan wouldn’t live forever, only creatures of the Count’s, continuing his work. That wasn’t what she wanted; she’d already made that decision once.

She shivered. If she lost herself, John would pay for it, and after him, the rest of the asylum, the town, and perhaps even the whole world. But for that one instant she could have cried for the loss of that dreadful future.

Mina gritted her teeth and lifted her head, readying herself. That one steel thread within held yet.

Jonathan leapt across the room with supernatural speed and strength as Mina stiffened herself and leant forward to meet him. The sharp fragment of wooden chair she held in her hand pierced his chest and he shrieked in outrage and pain. She was shaking, but she tightened her grip on the makeshift stake, forcing it deeper in as she pressed back against John and the wall for support.

“Mina,” gasped Jonathan.

She swallowed, but only pressed in harder, though she blinked away tears. She would do what she must.

Jonathan fell back onto the floor, the remnant of the chair leg embedded in his chest and his shirt dark with blood around it. He lay there, twitching.

Mina shut her eyes and felt, now the deed was done, the steel thread running through her finally strained too far and snapped. She collapsed against John, horror overwhelming her. Even so, the urge to throw herself down after Jonathan and take the ring seized her. She shut her eyes and turned her head in against John, holding on tightly to his waistcoat and shirt sleeves. She must not, or all would be lost yet. John was in no state to fight her if she turned against him, and Jonathan was beyond earthly help now.

“John,” she said, breathless with the effort. “John, we must go now!”

He nodded, and they tried to help each other up, hanging onto each other for support. Mina looked back at Jonathan and found herself unable to move. She couldn’t just leave him like that. What if there was still hope? A wisp of the darkness floated into her head and reminded her again of the ring, now fallen out of his hand onto the floor. One swift movement and it would be hers.

“Mina,” said John in her ear as he held onto her with his good arm, startling her back to herself. The dangerous thoughts faded. She was more concerned by the way she felt John slacken against her before straightening again, but he tightened his hold nevertheless and led her out into the corridor. He stifled a cry as he stumbled over the body on the floor. “Good God!” he said. “Jenkins. Is he dead?”

Mina tugged at his arm. “We’ll come back for him presently. The cell door – please, close it. I mustn’t have a chance to get that ring.”

“No,” said John, and pulled it shut behind them, but as they stumbled on down the unlit corridor, he said, “You wouldn’t, not now. Not after – that.”

Mina didn’t know if that were true or not. She hoped so. She’d been put to the test twice now, and she had remained herself so far, but she didn’t feel it was wise to count on it a third time. She’d have to hope that the libraries the Professor had gone to consult in York might have answers on how to finally destroy the perilous object.

But, oh, Jonathan –

She shuddered. She had blood on her hands – John’s blood, and Jonathan’s. It was too dark to see, but she knew it, even if she could no longer sense it so strongly. Her hand stole up to the cross she’d taken to wearing under her dress, safely on its chain. She’d made her choice; John was right. Poor Jonathan had also made his – and for him, it had been the Count who mattered the most.

Mina’s elbow struck the metal staircase, breaking her melancholy train of thought. She caught hold of it and sank down onto one of the steps, placing her head in her hands and giving into tears. Her strength failed her then, and she collapsed onto the ground. What happened after, she let pass in a merciful haze. 

She woke in one of the rooms at the asylum, and pulled herself up, blinking. John was sitting on a chair by the wall and had seemingly fallen asleep with a blanket draped over him. His arm was now more professionally bandaged and held in a sling.

“Surely you should be in bed,” she said instantly, sounding too much like the schoolma’am she had once been.

John started and opened his eyes, then straightened himself. “Presently," he murmured and gave a cough, before pulling himself up out of the chair and taking two long strides to the side of her bed. “I wanted to see how you were. You need not worry about me. Mrs H has given me any number of cups of tea, and I’ve sent a telegram to the Professor. He’ll be back by the first train.”

“Good,” she said, and shifted into a sitting position. “But your arm –”

John shook his head at her and stepped aside to stand by the window, lifting one of the heavy curtains as he looked out. It was morning. Pale, early sunlight filled the room, and Mina felt glad to see it. She breathed easier, knowing for sure that no part of her felt the need to hide from the light.

“You saved us both,” he said, not looking at her, gruff with awkwardness. “I must thank you. Jenkins and Rowse are both alive, although poor Jenkins has a bad concussion. I don’t know how you had the nerve. I’m not sure I could have done it.”

Mina shook her head. “I didn’t. I couldn’t. I let Jonathan do it himself. I merely – held on.” She pressed her had to her mouth, and shivered. She didn’t want to talk about Jonathan. Then a thought struck her and she looked up, one last hope rising in her. “Where is he? Is he -?”

“I didn’t dare enter the cell,” said John. “I looked inside and he was lying where we left him. I believe he is – well, I believe that you freed him. The Professor will make certain when he arrives. I am so sorry, Mina.”

Mina swallowed. “I had to do it,” she said, and wiped tears away with the back of her hand, “but – oh, I have no one left.”

John turned sharply and crossed back to sit on the side of the bed. He reached out for her hand. “No, no,” he said, taking it in his. “It may not be much, but you have me. I owe you my life.”

The sunlight he’d let in through the crack in the curtain danced over the bedcovers. Mina closed her fingers about John’s, and managed a tremulous smile.

“It’s a great deal,” she said. It would have to be.

Outside the window, the sun continued to rise in the sky, and all traces of night hid away in the shadows.


End file.
